IT WAS A COLD DAY IN TELON, with the streets lined in the blood of their last warriors and bodies stacked carelessly up to the sides of the worn roads and pathways. Everyone left in town was centered around their last warrior and the leader of the Impalers, Kahese. Horses stamped their feet, puffed heavily out of their noses and flicked their ears to the loud voices. Besides the animals, there was no other noise coming from any humans besides the two already engaged in conversation. The skies above were turning dark now, clouds became threatening and gloomy, the air chilled and the dirt beneath their feet hardened.

The two were staring each other down, swords drawn and eyes narrowed. Grey versus black. Sebidwen's familial grey versus Kahese's evil, ruthless black which seemed as if it could only be born to a demon of hell. His followers were watching on with disinterest, believing Sebidwen to be of no challenge to their leader. She was, after all, a woman. What harm could a woman possibly do to a man? The followers kept quiet but found extreme amusement in the idea of what the fight could look like. They were sure their powerful padrone would destroy not only this woman's body, but her mind.

Sebidwen and Kahese began to circle slowly, like tigers inspecting prey, examining the other's movements. They calculated relentlessly and learned the reach of their opponent, the power behind the limbs, the strength hidden just under the surface. "You can still leave with your life," Sebidwen warned the man across from her in an even tone, being careful to choose her words wisely lest they betray her inner thoughts. She set her jaw stubbornly and started stepping more carefully.

Sebidwen jabbed the tip of her sword low near Kahese's feet, testing him. He pranced away easily, flitting just out of her reach. He's fast, she noted. But surely I'm faster. He's much bigger than I am and, as fast as he can be, I will always be faster. His height is what betrays him.

Kahese laughed — a bellowing hacking sound that sent chills down Sebidwen's spine despite her intense and boiling hatred for him. "You believe you can defeat me? You are but a single, simple-minded woman!" He yelled brazenly as he swung his sword down in a mighty arc towards Sebidwen's head. He was, as she'd expected, lightning fast but, also as she'd predicted, Sebidwen was faster. She saw the swing coming miles away due to the twitching muscle tell in his bicep.

     She ultimately reacted faster than he could act.

Rolling to the left, Sebidwen just barely missed getting slashed in the right shoulder by his stained blade. She used the small opening second she had to strike while Kahese's right side was exposed to her, thrusting her own body forward as she drove her sword upwards to Kahese's chest. The giant of a  man merely sidestepped the blow as if it was nothing, stepping back with heavy feet.

They backed away from each other, circling again but with more caution this time, knowing more about the other with each little strike and retaliation. Sebidwen was already panting a little, she grudgingly had to admit that the man was strong and clearly an experienced, sturdy opponent who made for the likes of something Sebidwen had never seen before. Kahese had to admit the same of her but he was bigger and definitely more at an advantage, that was clear in the way he fought.

She fought as if she was desperate, but Kahese fought as if he were at ease.

Rushing forward with an ear-splitting cry, Sebidwen clashed blades with Kahese for several moments while the onlookers watched in complete silence. They had no idea what to do. They had no weapons, no armor, no courage left. They were victims of terrible loss already, and they questioned why they should sacrifice themselves too; they knew they shouldn't. That was Sebidwen's job and they couldn't help her now that she was in this fight neck-deep, they could only hinder her and they realized this. This realization is what kept every villager watching from the dirt.

     Sebidwen didn't blame them. Most of the villagers watching were women and a few children who had failed to heed her orders when the attack began. They reminded her of Cadwadwyr — brimming with curiosity and a hunger to fulfill it. She grew uneasy at the thought, her grief-stricken heart threatening to resurface from the depths of her chest, but forced herself to refocus on the threat in front of her. A distracted mind never bodes well for a fight.

Kahese suddenly pushed his blade up against hers, hilt to hilt, and they stood there trying to push the other off of their sword. They were at a stalemate. Sebidwen was putting her whole body into the locked position, growling and grunting quietly as Kahese used his colossal strength to push Sebidwen hard enough that she was hopping backwards so she wouldn't fall over. She dug her toes into the dirt as sweat dripped down her brow, but it was no use. Kahese was far too strong and he knew it as he spoke to her with a cruel smile, leaning his face across their blades to stare directly into her eyes.

"You are a mere child, nothing more, and to make matters worse, you're a woman — a weak woman — so you shall live the rest of your godforsaken life knowing that I bested you!"

     Kahese declared this triumphantly, finally pushing Sebidwen off of his blade, silver raining down through the air between them and onto the ground at her feet. It was the remains of her blade, now broken. Sebidwen fell backwards on her ass, staring up at the man in shock. She couldn't move, she couldn't find words to speak, she had suddenly found herself petrified for a moment hanging in time. Her blade was broken; she had been beaten, defeated, and publicly humiliated.

Kahese held the tip of his sword at Sebidwen's throat, speaking in a voice so soft that only she could hear his final taunt meant to jab at her very existence. "Live in misery," he turned abruptly on his heel to mount his armored red roan once more, casting a glance back at the stunned woman. Sebidwen knew then that she would always remember his eyes — his burning, heartless eyes. Kahese smirked evilly and turned round again, kicking the horse's flanks. He and the Impalers rode out of Telon, leaving the town in dust, sorrow, and fear in their wake.

Many women whom had been watching the fight rushed to Sebidwen's aid as soon as the Impalers were out of sight, checking her body for any sign of wounds or blood, and thanking her profusely with a clamoring of broken voices. They had sobbed and cried the entire fight, not only in fear for themselves, but fear for the child they had helped raise.

     "Thank you! Thank you, my lady!" Ywain cried out, voice rising above the others as she cradled her small child to her chest, watching the women tend to Sebidwen in the dirt.

Sebidwen swore loudly, throwing away the handle of her broken sword into the dirt. The shattered pieces of her pride lay at her feet, awaiting her to put it together again. She wasn't sure how to answer the call of the handle that was begging her to pick it up from where it lay and hold it for one last time.

     She pushed away the concerned women, much to their surprise. "Away!" She bellowed. "Get away from me!" Sebidwen sounded just the way a man would, pushing herself with haste to her feet. Her anger and hatred, her bruised pride, sadness, and fear all boiled together like a ticking time bomb — just waiting for the right time to explode. The defeat and humiliation had crushed her. It was one thing to realize that you were beaten but it was another to have it done so harshly in front of those who were relying on you.

Sebidwen left her sword in the dirt, walking with hunched shoulders and long strides to her home to see Palotine. Something else had to be done to save Telon. This wasn't working.

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Bursting into Palotine's dimly lit bedroom, Sebidwen quickly knelt on her knees at his bedside with a heavy note of urgency that immediately woke the older man. It was evident in her shoulders, in her hurried breath, her wild eyes and her sorrowful face. He'd heard the town's bells and knew there would no longer be men left to ring them when the Impalers returned next. He was sick, not stupid. The thought of Telon's fate brought him great sadness.

     "Yes?" Palotine whispered hoarsely, keeping his eyes closed to save his strength to speak. He could just sense her presence, it was the weird little thing he had always been able to do. It had been disconcerting to Sebidwen at first when she had always played hide and seek with her father, but it was one of the first things he taught her to be able to do. He'd said that it came in handy in even the stickiest of situations.

     It turned out to be a quite useful skill.

     Sebidwen wasted no time with her next words, rushing to get them all out in a single breath. "The town won't survive another raid. I wish to ride to Camelot and request help from King Uther."

     Palotine opened his eyes quickly, turning his head as far as he could to face his daughter. "No!" His voice was like his usual self for once, sharp and commanding. "Uther will not help us, Sebi, he does not care for... our little village. It is a waste of time..." he pleaded lowly, coughing loudly as a harsh tone caught in his voice. Palotine grabbed a rag from next to him on the bed, raising it to his lips as a fit of coughing consumed his body. "I wish you to — to train more villagers for when the Impalers return... we can be ready by then!" Palotine, wise and knowledgeable, was also stubborn and not easily swayed. He was set in his ways and struggled to hold onto his power as the leader of Telon despite feeling it shift from person to person in their family.

     It was only inevitable that his power would soon fade. While it angered Sebidwen, she knew that she would be given the power instead of some clueless villager or merchant. Sebidwen moved backwards in indignation, shocked. She spoke rapidly. "Father! Uther will help us, he is a good king. If I tell him how they have ransacked us repeatedly—"

     "No, I forbid you to leave Sebidwen!"

     Palotine broke into another particularly nasty fit of coughing, blood spewing down the front of his cotton shirt the way it had been for the past few days. His face grew spotty and red in his fit, drawing sympathy from Sebidwen's gentle heart. Mesant had no explanation for the blood, telling Sebidwen to pray for her father. To pray that he could make it through and that Mesant could find a cure in time. Except... there was no time anymore. Sebidwen had to do something to save her father and to save all of Telon.

     And to forget Mesant's bloody 'advice'. Praying was foolish when there's something that can actually be done.

     Sebidwen rose silently from his bedside, turning to leave the shadowy room. "Sebidwen!" Palotine called out weakly, raising his hand to reach out toward her back. She turned to look at him over her shoulder silently with now-cold eyes. She loved her father but, sometimes, his ideas clashed with hers too much. She knew what she had to do, even if it meant disobeying his orders. "Train the men."

     Like hell, she thought to herself.

     Turning on her heel and leaving the house without a word, Sebidwen headed directly to Afagon's stall at the stables again. "I do not care what he says!" Sebidwen was talking to her dapple grey, stroking him gently despite her rising anger. "We will help Telon, Afagon," she promised in a low voice, hugging the horse around his muscular neck. "Uther will grant us help. He has to!" She whispered the last part to herself, closing her eyes for a moment. Sebidwen breathed in the warm, familiar scent of Afagon and the homely stall she'd always come back to.

     Afagon turned his velvety nose to nuzzle Sebidwen gently, snickering quietly as if in response to her. He was always there to listen to his human and, if he could, aid her in becoming the strong duo they became when the two were together.

     Sebidwen smiled after a moment, the action lighting up her face and making her features soft for once in a long time. The shadows of the dying light outside fell across Sebidwen face and made her look, more than ever, like a lady by giving gentle edges to her sharp facial features and cheekbones. She looked like her mother for once; the spitting image of the beauty who had died giving birth to her. What a shame. In times like these, Sebidwen missed her mother despite never having met her. Other times, she was disinterested in the fate of the woman who had given Sebidwen her life, at best.

     Attaching the saddlebags onto Afagon's saddle, Sebidwen mounted her steed expertly from the ground and rode him out onto the dirt road at a fast walk. They did their best to sidestep the dead bodies and stay out of the path of destruction that the Impalers had wreaked on Telon. It was difficult to stay clear of it all.

     The remaining villagers stood at the edges of the road to watch their best warrior leave with weary eyes.

     "Sebidwen!" A small child cried out with joy coloring his tone, cheering for her with a tiny voice amidst a wall of uncertainty. "She's going to save us all! She will!" The boy vowed to his on-watching family and the small yellow kitten he held in his arms. The kitten mewed softly at the boy, pawing his face in response.

     Sebidwen kept her eyes trained forward, trying to radiate an aura of complete power and confidence upon her mighty warhorse. Afagon bunched his neck and put a prancing boost into his steps, picking up his knees higher and fanning out his flowing, healthy tail behind him.

     It's all about how you look, Sebidwen told herself, keeping up the facade of confidence. Uther might damn us to hell for all I know. Though if he does, this will all be for nothing. If the Impalers strike again, Telon will be forced to surrender to their rule and will become nothing but slaves to them. I can't let that happen, even if Uther denies me.

     He won't, though. He can't. God... he can't.

     Other villagers began to call out to their warrior in loud voices, some spewing praise and some spewing poison, saying Sebidwen was a coward for leaving. They all had their own opinions about the matter and Sebidwen decided to let them talk all they wanted. What did they know about the matter anyways? When she returned with the soldiers of Camelot, they would know how much she cared for Telon and what a good leader she would become once her father died. If he died. As much as she hated to admit it, Palotine was on death's doorstep.

     They'll be forced to see the truth that Sebidwen's way is more efficient than Palotine's.

     Riding out of the tall wooden gates that had stood open during the attack, Sebidwen stopped Afagon and turned to look over her left shoulder as the gates closed shut with a deafening bang. She was on her own now, standing on the outside of the place that had been her home. It felt a little too definitive in the way that the gates were locked tight. Nevertheless, Sebidwen had a quest. She turned her face and nudged Afagon into a steady gallop as they went into the forest, leaning over his powerful neck and chest, urging him faster and faster with encouraging nudges.

     "We can do this," she reassured herself, feeling small amounts of guilt for leaving Telon so suddenly and without permission. She felt immensely guilty for not staying to bury their warriors, for not burying Cadwadwyr. An unwanted tear slipped down her cheek as a powerful memory charged, unbidden, into her mind's eye.

     "Ha ha ha! You can't beat me, Sebidwen, I'm the fastest rider in all of Telon and you know it!" Cadwadwyr teased his friend with a madman's laugh, trotting on his golden horse around Sebidwen and Afagon in a large circle. They were outside the gates and high walls of the town and found themselves alone but in good company.

     Rain began to fall quietly on the two friends, which made Afagon shake his mane heavily with disdain, spraying droplets of cold water on Cadwadwyr and his dun horse, Lynena. Lynena whinnied sharply in protest, pinning her ears at Afagon who could only huff in response.

     "Oh really?" Sebidwen challenged, her competitive spirit taking a new edge to her tone. "I bet I can beat you to the great big oak tree on top of the hill!" She boasted confidently, pointing Afagon's nose towards the steep hill. It was a long ways away but Afagon was meant for distance, not speed. Lynena was the opposite.

     "You're on!" Cadwadwyr suddenly kicked Lynena without forewarning and she nearly bolted from underneath him, streaking towards the huge hill like a lightning bolt had struck her behind. That was the start of the race. 

     Determined to catch up to them, Sebidwen kicked Afagon into a thundering gallop as the rain began to fall harder. It made seeing the path more difficult but Sebidwen knew she'd caught up to Cadwadwyr when she heard Lynena's hooves level out next to her and when she could see the mare's golden coat through the trees.

     Sebidwen glanced over, looking at Cadwadwyr as he was hunched over Lynena's freely flowing mane, urging her faster and faster as they weaved their way through the trees to the top of the hill. That moment was stuck in Sebidwen's mind.

     As Afagon galloped, Sebidwen sadly turned her eyes to the empty space beside her, filled with grief and half-expecting her friend to be there beside her. And, as if she were seeing the ghost of her recently fallen friend, Cadwadwyr was suddenly next to her looking like he was carved directly from ice and he was riding atop a stallion of the same stature — one she remembered seeing when Palotine used to ride many years ago.

     "Sebidwen!" The ghost whispered, his voice cutting through the air like a knife, making the shining tears on her cheeks fall even faster. "Keep going!" It urged her, nodding over stallion's mane, pointing forward down the pathway as they galloped alongside each other one last time.

     "I — I'm sorry I didn't save you!" Sebidwen reined Afagon in to an abrupt halt. He was gone and she was left talking to the empty air around her. She shouted despairingly into the dark trees, looking for Cadwadwyr's ghost for one last time. "I'm sorry!" Sebidwen cried louder, head falling as she sobbed guiltily into Afagon's mane for a fleeting moment.

     Feeling the loneliness settle in the center of her chest, Sebidwen tried her best to catch her breath and compose herself. Crying was a sign of weakness. It was something she couldn't afford, there wasn't any time to cry and grieve. She'd have to find time later when the threat of the Impalers was gone and when the feeling of anxiety faded from her body.

     Grudgingly, Sebidwen pushed herself back from Afagon's mane.

     When she sat up straight again, Sebidwen saw the air around her was still empty. If Cadwadwyr had really been there, he wasn't anymore. But if she was simply going crazy, that was a different matter to deal with, and now was not the time. Now was not the time for anything less than taking action. Sebidwen let out a shaky and uncertain breath, nudging Afagon back into a working canter down the pathway that Cadwadwyr had pointed out.

     Night soon fell across the land and Sebidwen had to pull Afagon back into a fast walk for fear of stepping in a hole and hurting her horse. He had been her steed for years and she intended to keep it that way. He'd been trained by her under Palotine's guidance; he'd been through so much with her and was more like an old friend than anything else. Sebidwen did not plan on losing another friend any time soon. She didn't think she'd be able to cope with the loss of her beloved horse.

     Stepping gingerly over sticks and the roots of trees, Afagon kept his head low and his steps careful. He sniffed at the ground and his body swayed back and forth in a slow rocking motion, being careful as he incessantly switched his weight from side to side. Sebidwen could barely see, but did not wish to make camp until they could go no longer.

     Camelot is three days away, Sebidwen reminded herself. What if the Impalers come back before then? That's at least a week's time before I shall return. That'll be the fourth and final time for us to defeat them. We must be ready.

     Sebidwen startled back into reality as Afagon stumbled and snorted in surprise, he'd tripped over the gnarled root of a tree which jutted out of the ground as if trying to escape the dirt which encased it. She sighed gently, eventually dismounting and leading Afagon on foot to continue to make headway into the cold and dark night. They had left Telon late in the day and could waste no more time just because they couldn't see.

     "Good boy," Sebidwen cooed to Afagon gently, putting a gentle hand onto his broad neck in an act of reassurance. "Just a bit farther, then I suppose we can make camp for a few hours, how does that sound Afagon?"

     Afagon gave a soft sigh in response, stepping over a hole.

     A short while later, the two came across an open, green meadow of flowers and small fauna that made noise in the distance where they pitched a quick camp which consisted of Sebidwen tying Afagon's bridle to a tree on the edge of the meadow and finding a nice spot to sleep in. Laying down at her chosen spot, Sebidwen stared up at the open sky of stars above her, reliving the moment that her blade broke in her mind. It played over and over.

     What else could she have done? How did Kahese break the blade so easily? She'd had that sword for years and it had been through hell and back without even a chip or scratch in the blade. It was disappointing, to say the least, but very puzzling. A find sword like that had no reason to perish under tough circumstances, not when it had endured the weight of men like Kahese over a dozen times.

     I will need a new blade once I arrive in Camelot, Sebidwen thought to herself, pulling her blanket tighter around her body as she turned on her side. Perhaps someone will craft me one. Perhaps it's a job for Tom.

     Thoughts fading into nothing, Sebidwen sighed heavily as she drifted off into a peaceful unconsciousness. She closed her eyes, embraced the darkness, and promptly went to sleep, dreaming of nothing.